


Craving You

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knife Play, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Obsession, Other, POV Second Person, Paranoia, Vore, Yandere, or it's kinda not quite vore yet... like it's nearrrrlly vore but not it, tagging to be safe tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27376048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He... really likes you. It's to the point that he's paranoid without you near him.
Relationships: Original Male Character(s)/Reader
Kudos: 18
Collections: Anonymous





	Craving You

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: there is mentioning of extreme body modification (amputation of a limb) as well as implied drugging and non consentual intercourse.
> 
> -
> 
> I wrote this for a friend after we started talking about how cats are basically liquid that can mould into anything and then joking on how we wanted to be liquid and then I off handedly said "saying I wanna be trapped in a bottle is sum ao3 esc thing lmfaooo" and then we clowned ourself because now I'm here

You're really pretty when you sleep, he concludes to himself.

It's appealing when you unconsciously knit your brows just in the right way for a small crease to appear in the lovely valley between them, or when your lips twitch before parting to release a shaky breath. Your body is really responsive too; he muses that his feather-like touches probably feel like course sand sticking to your skin after a dip in the beach. There's nothing about you that he would ever change. Nothing he would ever want to be away from.

Snapped out of his stupor as you shift to pull the covers draped over you closer to your chin, a dopey smile slides onto his face as he hesitantly pulls himself away from you. Slinking back to the coffee table at the centre of the living room he pushes it closer to the couch, aligning your body parallel to it. Ingredients litter the surface, untouched to one side while his favourite cooking instruments are arranged on the other.

He starts to sharpen his knife.

Paranoia always settles if you're not in his sights; he's afraid of you slipping away unattended and perhaps getting yourself accidentally lost or, even worse, hurt. So he settles for the best solution: for him to function, he'll just have to have you with him at all times.

The feeling of the red string stretching tense between the two of you threatening to snap wraps around his throat as he swallows heavily. 

Starting to prepare your dinner as you remain inert, he starts chopping in a continuous motion as he feeds the ingredients under his knife. He hears the crunch of carrots, cucumbers, onions and the squish of tomatoes, a lemon under too much pressure and- he pauses as a new, soft texture greets his finger tips. 

The light bulb above him flickers. 

Moving a hand to grasp yours, he squeezes. Red smears onto your skin, similar to the flush brushing his cheeks. You looked... really good in red. Shaking his head he goes back to his monotonous task, cutting his ingredients, however there is now a change: there's only a slight squelching sound. Erotic in a way as his memories skip to the shared sheets, your figure shaking in what he assumed was anticipation and 3 words falling from your lips like a mantra as both your wavelengths met. 

As his mind wonders, so does his hands. One stills as the other moves, fingers marching towards the conquest of want. 

Stopping himself at just the right moment, his clenched hand moves back to his work station before his fingers tighten and the familiar feeling of the soft texture eases his mind. A shaky smile smears his lips as his knife moves in a sawing motion. With his ears perking up, he listens: squelching before- your screams resound throughout the room as you wither in pain.

Your hand feels like it's on fire as you try to wrench you hand towards your chest to cradle it. Twisting and turning, kicking your feet in his general direction as you knock ingredients and instruments to the ground, the sharp clattering sounds batting against your head. You cry and cry wanting for it to stop, for a god to intervene and stop the pain, anything. But he's stubborn.

Uncaring for the way you claw at him with your one free hand and the profanities spewing from your lips, he continues to saw and applying more and more pressure before an agonising 'SNAP' meets both your ears. 

Blood is spewing everywhere as you cry, snot pooling at your cupid's bow and tears streaming like an unrelenting rainfall. Your throat is raw, a moaning scraping past your dried throat as you stumble on the ground, feet kicking at different sized knives, a few nipping at you. You don't care about that though. What you do care about is your now missing ring finger.

Collapsing onto your knees like a sinner begging for God's call, you stare up at his illuminated figure; he's marvelling at his clenched fist, beaming with a blinding brightness and surrounded by a mocking halo. Giddy he begins to shuffle through his things, laughing and giggling to himself as red gushes from the same clenched fist. A sound of triumph surges from his chest as he holds up a glass tube with a cork pressed on as it's lid before he gnaws at that very cork to pry it open. It pops open before he spits the cork to the ground, red-coated slippery fingers adjusting his grip on said tube. His back is now fully turned towards you as he fiddles with it but you could hardly care as black patches of unconsciousness splatters into your vision (this unconsciousness is of your own body's doing and not forced onto you this time). 

Shuffling approaches you before they stop in front of you, his bones cracking as he bends down to nuzzle against your cheek.

Now he doesn't need to be paranoid if the larger part of you isn't with him.

**Author's Note:**

> we ended up agreeing on a mini collab where we'll probably design homeboy.


End file.
